


Take Me For A Spin Cycle

by AislinMarue



Series: Destiel - Castiel/Dean Winchester [37]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Based on Spoiler photos, Destiel - Freeform, Laundromat, M/M, Season 9
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-14
Updated: 2013-09-14
Packaged: 2017-12-26 14:24:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/966984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AislinMarue/pseuds/AislinMarue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel wanders into a laundromat, seeking to clean the blood from his clothing while he waits for Dean to find him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Me For A Spin Cycle

**Author's Note:**

> We all know what pictures this story is inspired by. But you all know I can't do anything without adding my own twist to it. That being said, hope you like my take on things. Thanks for reading! <3

Pain was definitely something he could do without. Easily.

But for Castiel, at the moment, pain was something he was just going to have to live with. Along with discomfort, exhaustion and hunger. None of which were enjoyable in the slightest.

Logically speaking, he knew there were aspects of humanity that were pleasant to experience. He just hadn’t gotten to experience them yet. True, he’d had a glimpse years ago when he’d been cut off from Heaven, but this was different. Now he was completely human, completely alone, and completely out of options.

Thankfully, he’d still had his cell phone. There were only three numbers programmed into his list of contacts, one of which was for a dead man, but the other two were Dean and Sam Winchester. 

Calling Dean had been painful in a way he hadn’t anticipated. Not physically, though there was enough of that to go around due to his bad experiences with automobiles so far. No, it had been painful more in a having to admit to Dean he’d failed in something again sort of way. By far one of the least pleasant sensations to feel and one he didn’t wish to repeat, but was all too familiar with.

He’d briefly touched on what happened with Metatron along with the fact that he was now sans mojo. Dean had explained that Sam was in the hospital. More pain. He couldn’t fix Sam no matter how badly he wanted to. He couldn’t zap over to the Winchesters and heal Dean’s brother with a touch anymore. Castiel had actually readied himself to fly to the boys out of habit before being hit with the reminder that he couldn’t. 

The actual conversation had lasted less than ten minutes. By far their longest over the phone. But it lingered on Castiel’s mind for hours after it ended. He’d told Dean the name of the town he was in while they were on the phone and Dean said he’d be there within a few hours. The end of his long, lonely trek through the unknown was almost over. Castiel just had to survive until then.

His feet hurt from walking so long. His wounds ached. His hand burned. And his stomach was complaining vehemently about its lack of food. Not to mention dirty clothes were very uncomfortable, he discovered. They also garnered him strange or fearful looks from those he passed given the blood splatter over the fabric of his coat and the suit beneath.

He was hot, achy, exhausted and starving all together and damn if he didn’t hate every second of it. Castiel longed for the bunker. For the chatter of Dean and Sam as they discussed cases or some pop culture reference Castiel just didn’t understand.

That would come in time he hoped. But his main goal at this point was to survive until Dean could find him. Toward that end, he'd managed to find loose change on the ground. Not much, but it was far better than what he'd started out with. By evening he had a couple of dollars. He'd also found a laundromat. 

The choice between food and clean clothing was a difficult one but Castiel reasoned that he'd likely get food after Dean found him. So clean clothing won. 

It was just past ten o'clock at night when he entered the laundromat, blue eyes sweeping the interior. 

There was a middle aged man asleep behind the counter at the back of the laundromat, but other than that, the entire building was empty of customers. That was a small favor at least.

Castiel made his way to the row of washers along the side wall, furthest away from the sleeping attendant. He reached into the pocket of his slacks, pulling out a few coins and setting them on top of one of the coin machines. 

The trenchcoat came off first, then his shoes. The suit followed, piece by piece, each being put into the washing machine until Castiel was left in only a thin pair of white boxer shorts. He couldn’t help the longing glance he gave the vending machine in the corner, but resolved himself to putting his coins in the slot for the washing machine and starting it.

He stood there in front of the washing machine, staring at it until the ache in his body won out and he sat in one of the hard plastic chairs against the wall. It was rather uncomfortable and Castiel knew immediately that he didn’t like how it felt against his skin, but it was better than being on his feet.

Castiel lost track of how long he sat there, waiting for the washer to finish so he could put his clothing into the dryer. His skin was covered with goosebumps from the chill in the air, but he contented himself with the knowledge that his clothes would be clean and Dean would come eventually.

His gaze darted to the door when it opened suddenly and Dean entered. That pain surged again, knowing he dreaded the conversation that stared him in the face. But it couldn’t be avoided. Dean would want to know what had happened and there had been enough secrets kept from him in the past. Castiel wouldn’t hold anything back. Not anymore.

The former angel got to his feet as Dean crossed the laundromat toward him, stopping close and well within his personal space. It struck Castiel as off given how many times Dean had warned him against being so close, but he said nothing, gaze caught by Dean’s green eyes.

“Cas…” Dean said, his name spoken by the hunter hoarsely.

“Hello, Dean,” he offered quietly in greeting, a shiver running down his spine, though not from the temperature in the laundromat.

The hunter’s gaze was intent, rapt on Castiel’s face. He looked as if there was something he wanted to say, but instead he stepped even closer still to the former angel.

“Dean…” he began to say, puzzled by the man’s behavior, but found his words cut off by the insistent mouth that was suddenly on his.

The gasp Castiel gave was lost in the feeling of Dean’s mouth pressed against his, in the hunter’s fingers sliding through his hair and gripping gently, in the warmth of Dean’s body seeping into Castiel’s chilled skin even through the layers of the hunter’s clothing.

“Was so worried about you,” Dean murmured against his lips, the words rocking Castiel to the very core, but he wasn’t given a chance to respond before Dean was kissing him again.

It was everything Castiel had imagined it would be and more. So much more. Dean’s tongue was suddenly in his mouth and the former angel found himself gripping Dean’s arms tightly in an effort to remain upright.

All the pain, the exhaustion, the hunger...it was like none of it existed for Castiel when he was wrapped up in his hunter’s arms, those lips fervently claiming his as Dean’s hands wandered over his exposed skin. He shivered as they trailed over his back, but it certainly wasn’t due to being cold. If anything, he felt warm. So very warm. It was wonderful.

Their lips parted at last, leaving both of them panting, but then Dean’s mouth was on his jaw, lips trailing over the stubble there with a quiet rasping noise. He wasn’t even thinking when he tilted his head back, letting that sinful mouth move wherever it wanted across his skin.

Castiel spared a brief thought for the laundromat attendant asleep in the far corner, but then Dean’s tongue was trailing over where his pulse was beating fast at his neck and those hands were slipping under the waistband of those plain white boxers he still wore.

“Dean…” he groaned when a calloused hand closed around his half-hard cock beneath the light fabric, hips jerking out of reflex and those blue eyes widening with shock.

“Shh.” The hunter’s touch was sure and confident. Everything that Dean wanted others to believe him to be. It was enough to make sure that Castiel’s legs gave out beneath him and if Dean hadn’t caught him, eased him down into the chair behind him, he might have fallen onto the floor.

“Easy. Easy, baby, I’ve got you. I’ll take care of you,” Dean whispered as he settled Castiel into the chair, kneeling before the fallen angel. His lips found Castiel’s once more, hands braced on either side of his thighs where he sat in the chair.

Castiel lifted his hands, fingers threading through the soft, sandy brown strands of Dean’s hair as he returned that kiss. This was nothing like the time he’d kissed Meg. This was so much better. So much more intense. He felt that kiss all the way down to his toes. So much better than any of the sensations he’d experienced as a human thus far.

The Righteous Man was his salvation and Dean’s mouth was his lifeline. The way it made him feel when pressed to his own was more than he ever could have imagined. His lips parted and their tongues played, a gasp escaping him when the hunter’s hand came into contact with his cloth covered erection, the fabric tented out from his hips.

His soft groans were muffled in that kiss as Dean stroked him through the fabric of his boxers, Castiel’s legs spreading a bit wider to accommodate Dean’s presence between them. He didn’t even care about the hard plastic chair. All he wanted was this. More of this. More of Dean. Please, Father, let him have more. He’d never been one to beg, but for this, he would and gladly.

He felt the heat of Dean’s hand around his cock once more, skin against skin, and couldn’t hold back the cry that escaped him, head falling back against the wall. Dean stroked him from base to tip, calloused palm sliding over the soft skin of his shaft and leaving him panting.

“I love you,” he said, the words mixed with breathless moans, hips shifting restlessly. “I love you so much…” He moved as much as he could to press himself up into Dean’s grip, not even caring that he’d confessed his feelings to his hunter at long last. He was too caught up in every new sensation and feeling that assaulted him. Too caught up in the man himself.

“I love you, too. Always have,” Dean whispered hotly in his ear, making the former angel shudder as his hunter’s breath tickled his flesh. Castiel arched his back when Dean lowered his head, trailing that talented mouth along his collarbones and chest.

Dimly, Castiel heard ringing, but couldn’t bring himself to care. Not with Dean’s lips on his skin, his tongue playing with one of Castiel’s nipples and his free hand sliding over Castiel’s skin as he continued stroking the man’s erection.

But the ringing grew louder, more insistent. Dean didn’t seem to hear it, however, intent on his task of sucking one of Castiel’s nipples between his lips and teasing it with his tongue just as his thumb slid over the head of Castiel’s cock. 

He tried to give himself over to those sensations once more, but the ringing continued, louder and louder until he jolted up in the chair, blinking his eyes open and breathing heavily. Blue eyes darted around when he didn’t see Dean kneeling in front of him anymore, but the ringing drew his attention to his cell phone, sitting next to him on the chair.

Castiel lifted the phone, bringing it to his ear as he accepted the call. “Hello?” he answered, breath still slightly quickened, voice a little hoarse.

“Cas? Hey. Just hit town. Where are you?” Dean said on the other end of the line and Castiel’s heart plummeted. A dream. It had all been a dream. He tried to ignore the way his erection was tenting his boxers, hunching over slightly with his arms on his thighs as if he were trying to hide it from Dean even though the hunter wasn’t there yet.

“Uh… Laundromat. On Cedarwood and Sixth,” he said, looking up at the washer that contained his clothing. It had apparently finished its cycle some time ago.

“What are you doing at a laundromat?” Dean asked as Castiel stood from the chair and walked over to the washer, lifting the lid to peer inside.

“My clothing had blood on it. I thought it best to clean it.” The aches and pain were still there, but the exhaustion wasn’t as terrible thanks to his impromptu nap. The hunger was there as well, his stomach sincerely displeased with being so empty.

“Right. Are they clean?” Castiel’s sigh might have been answer enough to Dean’s question. He pulled the clothing out of the washer and started putting it into one of the nearby dryers.

“They need to be dried. They will be finished after that,” he explained, putting the suit and coat into the machine then inserting the right amount of coins to start it.

“If your suit’s in the dryer, what exactly are you wearing, Cas? You didn’t have any other clothes, did you?” Dean asked and Castiel glanced down at himself. His erection had finally gone flaccid, but he felt the stirrings of embarrassment when he considered Dean finding him in nothing but underwear.

“I didn’t put everything into the washing machine. I left on my undergarments.” He heard nothing but silence for several long moments.

“All right. I’ll be there in twenty minutes. I’ll bring you some spare clothes. Have you eaten?” He could hear the roar of the Impala over the phone as Dean accelerated.

“No. I thought it best to clean my clothing first. Walking around humans wearing blood-stained clothing wasn’t helping in my efforts to find money. I...I could use some food. Please.” Castiel wandered back to the line of chairs against the wall and reclaimed his seat, the cool air in the laundromat getting to him again and making him shiver.

“Okay. Sit tight. I’ll come get you then we’ll find somewhere that’s open this late.” A glance to the clock high up on the wall confirmed the hour. Just past two o’clock in the morning.

“All right, Dean.” He heard the phone click, signalling that Dean had ended the call and sat back to wait.

It didn’t take long. Dean appeared just shy of twenty minutes later in the doorway to the laundromat and Castiel was vividly reminded of his dream. He pushed the memories away as he sat hunched in the hard plastic chair, watching Dean make his way over, a few articles of clothing in his hands.

The hunter’s gaze slid over his body briefly before zeroing in on Castiel’s face as he came over and crouched in front of the former angel.

“Hey, man, you all right?” Dean inquired, searching Castiel’s exposed skin for injuries and sighing when he found some. “C’mon, put these on then I’ll get the first aid kit and patch you up, okay?”

Castiel nodded silently and slipped into the clothing Dean offered, smelling both Dean and his brother in the garments. Winchester hand-me-downs. He found himself immensely comforted not only by the softness of the clothes but how safe they made him feel, smelling like the boys as they did.

“Thank you, Dean,” he murmured, savoring this new, pleasant sensation as he buttoned the old pair of jeans Dean had given him, warm now from the clothing and protected from the chill in the air at last. 

“You’re welcome, Cas,” Dean said, placing a hand on Castiel’s shoulder. Then he reached forward and pulled the former angel close, wrapping both arms around him. “Glad you’re all right.”

The words warmed him more than the clothes and, as Castiel reached up to wrap his arms around Dean to return that embrace, for the first time since Metatron’s betrayal and becoming human, the pain didn’t matter. Nor did the embarrassment he’d felt from the vivid dream he’d had of Dean.

In the arms of the Righteous Man, Castiel felt all the joy humanity had to offer and reveled in it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I really hope you enjoyed my story! If you did, please consider buying me a ko-fi? My family and I could really use the help.
> 
> ko-fi.com/AislinMarue


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